The Harsh Light of Day
by LeandraCullen
Summary: This takes place after New Moon, in place of Eclipse, I suppose. Edward and Bella are together, sharing an evening as usual, when things begin to spiral out of control. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1: Kiss

**This is my first fan fiction story ever. I hope you like it. I would LOVE some reviews, please!**

**

* * *

**

**Edward:**

Her scent was everywhere. I could almost _feel _it without even needing to inhale. She seemed happy, content, as her heart sped up a little when my eyes trained themselves on her face. I wasn't well composed at all; my hands trembled as I reached for her, my skin humming with excitement every second. If my heart could beat it would have broken my ribcage.

But what I felt now wasn't purely thirst for her blood, hot and sweet and intoxicating though it was. This was how it usually was when I was around her. Just being near her, I came so completely undone, so without reason or doubt; I didn't belong to myself anymore. But it wasn't the monster within to which I succumbed. It was Bella. I was hers, unquestionably, unconditionally, irrevocably.

This was long enough to ponder. I didn't need to think about why I belonged with her; I was simply ecstatic that I did. I felt that she belonged with me as well. I wound my arms around her, letting her press her warm body to my icy chest, breathing in the glorious scent that radiated from her hair, her skin, her clothes.

I still had to be careful, of course. I had to watch myself to make sure that scent didn't some day push me over the edge. I had always suppressed _that_ side of my nature; suppressed, but not ignored. If I did ignore it, if I left it unchecked for even a second, I could lose her….I could kill her.

I tensed and visibly flinched at the thought. Bella, still wrapped in my now somewhat desperate embrace, lifted her head off my chest and tilted her beautiful face to see what was wrong with me. My body relaxed immediately when her innocent, concerned brown eyes met mine. I smiled at her, sending her a silent message with my gaze that I hoped would convey what words could not tell her. She smiled back, her worry all but forgotten. After a moment, she glanced sideways at the door.

"Charlie?" She mouthed her father's name, wondering if he'd woken. She began to slide reluctantly out of my arms, but I wasn't having that. I pulled her back to me, quickly leaning over to press my nose to the corner of her jaw.

"Still asleep," I whispered into her neck, my cool breath sending a shiver down her spine-not exclusively, I suspected, from the chill. I inhaled deeply, dragging my nose along her neck to her throat, being more and more careful all the while. I stopped when I reached the point where her pulse was strongest, breathing in her scent, pressing my lips to the hollow at the base of her throat.

She tried to say something else, but as my lips continued to graze her deliciously warm skin, she fell silent, captured by the moment and by the iron cage of my grip. Trying hard to hold still, she inclined her head slightly and inhaled. I knew that she was trying to be good, trying not to tempt me any more than was necessary. Right now, she was even more careful than she needed to be. I was well in control…at least, in _that_ sense I was.

Living for even a second while thinking that she was dead had put a great many things in perspective for me. That pain was the most devastating and destructive that I had ever felt. It was natural for me to shy away from anything that might bring back a reminder. And now that Charlie had Bella under house arrest, only allowing me to see her from 7 until 9:30…the excitement, the joy that I felt when I _did_ get to see her nearly buried the bloodlust. Nearly, but not entirely. I fought the urge to shudder and pushed these tedious thoughts from my mind.

My lips lingered just below her collarbone. I smiled as her heart skipped around erratically; I had always loved that.

Carefully, gently, I pulled her even closer to me, desperate for her, craving her warmth, her company, her body…her blood.

No. I wouldn't think about this tonight. Frustrated at myself, I drowned that last thought. Why was I always such a masochist? Couldn't I make it through one night with Bella without endangering her life only by thinking about it, by allowing such sinister thoughts to surface?

Perhaps the answer was no. Perhaps the only real way to protect her was to change her. It would certainly make things easier for me, when I didn't have to constantly focus on not killing her. And it was what she wanted…

Again I pulled my thoughts back to the moment. I would have time to think about such things later, while she slept, or while I was alone, and the air wasn't so saturated with her _smell_. I needed to enjoy this moment. I wasn't sure how many more like it I would have with her.

I loosened my grip around Bella's waist and took her hand, pulling her gently onto her bed. She sank down without protest, tentatively placing one hand on my neck, simultaneously warming my entire body as she perched precariously on my lap.

I still felt well enough in control as I slowly tipped backward until I lay on my back with Bella, surprised but pleased, on top of me. I sat up just enough to kiss her neck again. My right hand rested lightly on her lower ribs. With my lips, I softly nuzzled her jaw line from her chin to her ear, and then kissed her under the corner of her jaw.

Slowly, I rolled over until our positions were reversed. I was careful to support my own weight so that she felt none of it. I kissed her forehead, her cheek, down the side of her face. I paused for the briefest second at the corner of her mouth.

In the next instant, when my lips met hers and all my mostly repressed feelings of desire and lust for her rushed to the surface, I could feel my control beginning to falter. Usually, I would have taken this familiar warning to heart and stopped right then. But this time I didn't. I can't be sure what it is that drives me sometimes to lapse on these vitally important little choices, but I both hated it in a desperate, frightening way, and loved it with a horribly sinister gratitude.

While one hand wove itself through her hair, the other, still low on her ribs, inched down toward the bottom of her shirt. While my hands explored new places, my lips moved with a touch of urgency against hers. I wanted her so much, too much, and now I wasn't as careful to draw the line. I noticed that Bella wasn't holding dutifully still anymore either; her fingers rippled through my hair and caressed my neck, sending jolts of electricity to every inch of my body. I eased off just a little, remembering the last time my kiss had the same urgent edge, and not wanting to scare her. I wasn't going to leave her again, not ever.

Bella's skin was warmer than usual; enough to warm my own. The feeling was exhilarating, unbelievable. Even after a hundred years of intact virginity, this felt so right. So easy. I wanted her, all of her, and her blood was not quite at the surface of my thoughts. I hadn't felt so human in eighty years. My hands already crept slowly up her side, pushing her shirt up, touching her warm skin lightly. It would be so simple. I didn't think she would stop me; she couldn't even if she wanted to.

No. I commanded myself to stop, but it was nearly impossible. How had this gone so completely out of control in such a short moment? I tried to pull away from her, but I couldn't find any part of myself that wanted to. Suddenly, I didn't know what I was close to doing. I only knew, in the very back of my mind, that whatever it was couldn't be allowed to transpire.

Was I truly after her body? If that was it, I didn't know what to expect. _Would _she try to stop me? Probably not. I could feel an intensity building up in her that led me to believe that she wanted whatever was coming. That thought scared me.

Finally, I instinctively let her up for air. But my mind did not clear; my lips went immediately to her neck, where they kissed every part of her skin that they could find.

I didn't speak. Bella didn't speak. The tiny part of my brain that still remembered how to function wished that she would, quickly, before I had a chance to do something to her that I would regret.

But she kept silent, apparently as lost to the moment as I. Her breathing slowed just enough to move me to find her lips again. As soon as I did, I kissed her in earnest, my tongue tracing the shape of her mouth, rushing forward to meet hers.

_Stop, stop, stop_, I told myself. But myself didn't listen. Again I broke away from her kiss, moving my lips to her neck. It took a split second then to finally realize what I was doing. My lips parted and I moved in, seemingly to kiss her, but even in my blind panic, I knew better.

**Okay! So, please review. Let me know if there's something I can improve on. Please tell me if you think that I should keep going or let it drop. I would like to have at least one review before I move on. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2: Too Late

_**Ok, so here's chapter two. Reviews please!!**_

_The Harsh Light of Day_

_Chapter 2: Too Late_

**Bella:**

What was he doing? What was _I_ doing? His careful boundaries were in place for a reason; I knew that, even if he thought that I didn't. So just what was this? Questions flew through my mind at the speed of sound, but I couldn't catch up to them, couldn't hold on to them. I couldn't think or breathe. Edward's presence flooded my senses. I tried to hear, but there was only his breathing. I tried to feel, but there was only his touch. I tried to smell; there was only his scent.

I gasped for air, my heart pounding out a speeding drum roll, as he kissed my neck with cold, trembling lips. Some part of me shot out a warning, telling me to speak, to stop this before…before what? Before he killed me? That wasn't what was happening, was it? Maybe things were getting out of hand, but he wasn't so far gone to allow _that_ to happen…was he?

I somehow thought that I should feel afraid; but fear wouldn't touch me. It gave me a wide berth, circling the room, perhaps, but I never felt it. All I felt was…well, Edward.

I exhaled sharply, my breath behaving about as well as my heart. Edward must have thought that this was good enough; suddenly his lips were on mine again, his mouth moving in perfect accord with mine. My blood ran hot and thick through my veins, pushed faster by the erratic beating of my heart.

Our lips separated again. I tried to ask him what was going on, to form a coherent question in my mind that wouldn't come out sounding like a moan of pleasure. But my voice refused to form words and my brain refused to support any ideas that would discourage whatever Edward was doing. I still couldn't figure it out. It was impossible to concentrate as he again pressed his lips to my neck.

But this was something new, something frightfully different. I felt a twinge of panic as I gripped his shoulder. Was it my imagination…or was this uncannily akin to what I'd imagined it would be like when he…? I let that thought falter.

And then I felt a sharp pinch on my neck, right where his cold mouth was. It was so quick-and even light enough-that I couldn't be certain of what had caused it. But I had my theories.

**Edward:**

I gathered all of the force I could muster and wrenched myself backward, off of Bella and away from her beckoning throat. I had barely caught myself in time, breaking my own spell just before I felt her warm blood rush to meet my waiting tongue. I hadn't bitten her. Relief filled every crevice of my being.

I sat on the floor for a few minutes, letting my breathing steady itself; a strange gesture, perhaps, for someone who didn't require the oxygen, but it helped. As my ragged breathing calmed down, I calmed down. _That_, at least, was necessary before I even looked at Bella again.

Bella. I lifted my head in surprise when I realized that I hadn't heard her move at all. She was probably terrified, poor thing. I could only imagine what this battle with my self-control must have done to her emotionally.

"Bella?" I said her name cautiously, trying not to frighten her more. I slowly stood, gazing over to where she still lay on the bed. I froze.

She hadn't moved a millimeter. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her body trembled when I said her name. More terrified than I'd thought. I took a slow, careful, obvious step toward her and softly called to her again. This time there was no reaction.

"Bella!" I raised my voice just a fraction of an octave, growing very anxious. I crept slowly toward her. Her eyes flew open and her gaze locked on mine, agony and confusion apparent. I didn't understand. She swallowed, and then winced, as if the insignificant action had hurt her. I glanced down at her throat.

"No!" I couldn't stop myself from almost shouting. There, on her neck, right where I'd last kissed her, was an angry red crescent mark, bleeding just a bit. I was at her side before I even thought about it. I hardly noticed her normally intoxicating scent as I knelt at her side, panic wildly replacing every particle of the sick, cruel relief I'd felt moments earlier. I couldn't think. I was too furious at myself. I knew that I could do something to help her, I _knew_ it, but the memory wouldn't surface, which only made me more furious.

I looked at her, hoping that her face would give me the key to her survival. It didn't. The sight only made me want to die.

Her eyes were squeezed shut again, and her face was contorted in pain. She bit her lip hard, her brow furrowed and her nostrils flared. Her body went rigid; she writhed and shook, amazingly restraining herself from screaming or even crying out. I knew from experience that the pain was enough to drive even the most reasonable person to the edge of sanity. The only person I knew who'd endured in silence was Carlisle.

I gasped suddenly as the realization hit me. I buried my hand in my pocket, sifting for the tiny silver cell phone. Before I flipped it open, it buzzed in my hand. I pressed it to my ear desperately, without even a glance at the number.

"Carlisle!" I breathed without thinking. There was a pause.

"No, it's Alice." The fear in her wind-chime voice did nothing to calm my hysterics. "Edward, whatever you're doing, you have to stop. I had a vision—"

"It doesn't matter, get me Carlisle!" I couldn't remember my voice ever being so panicked…except once.

The memory hit me like a wrecking ball. Her body had lain there, crumpled and broken. Terror spread through me like venom-the venom that had, even as I'd seen her there, been poisoning her system. James' venom. _Vampire_ venom. And now, her body was being ravaged by the same type of poison. But mine this time.

Fighting through the terrible images that would have haunted my dreams if I'd had them, I urged my brain to work, to remember what I'd done, how I'd saved her.

_Like a rattlesnake bite_. I remembered someone describing the process. I had to suck the venom out. Like a rattlesnake bite. Yes, that was it.

"Edward, trust me," Alice's voice, forgotten in my moment of recollection. Even now, I was barely listening to her. I was much too preoccupied with trying to find a way to hold Bella still without hurting her, to save her again…to fix my mistake. "I saw…oh…oh, no."

"What?" I demanded, frantic.

"Edward," Alice whispered. "You bit her." It wasn't a question. I couldn't bring myself to answer directly.

"It doesn't matter," I insisted. "I'm going to fix it. I'm going to do what I did when James bit her. She'll be fine." I still sounded panicked and hysterical. I was really trying to convince myself as much as Alice. But it had to be true. She would be alright. She had to be.

"No, Edward," Alice contradicted in a whisper so low that it was almost inaudible even to me. "It's too late."

**_Please, please, please review!!_**


	3. Chapter 3: Pain

_**Thanks to everyone for the reviews! I had no idea that anyone would read this, let alone like it! Thanks, everyone! Okay, so disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or the characters involved in this work of fiction. No copyright infringement intended. **_

**_Alright, well, I guess Chapter 2 left off on sort of a cliff-hanger. I worked on this chapter until about 2 in the morning, and it was much harder than I would have expected, but I pulled through, and I'm pretty happy with it. Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!_**

* * *

_The Harsh Light of Day_

_Chapter 3: Pain_

**Bella:**

If pain could speak, I think I would know its voice. I would recognize its familiar call anywhere, from miles away. No matter how far it wandered, I knew that if pain could talk to me, I wouldn't have to ask its name. I would know. There would be no doubt in my mind. The voice of pain kept its place in my memory. Sometimes it seemed farther off, and sometimes it was right within my reach. I could hardly call pain my old friend, but I was definitely well acquainted with it.

This was nothing like the pain that I knew. I almost didn't realize at first that I was even _in_ pain. Not even the tiniest part of my body felt any different from the rest. At first, all I could feel anywhere was an unpleasant tingling sensation. And that was _everywhere_. It was like every inch of me had fallen asleep; this was somewhere between the incapacitating numbness and the pins-and-needles stabbing sensation. It wasn't particularly painful, but certainly far from comfortable. I was disgruntled to feel a sharp pinch on my left arm above the crook in my elbow.

I groaned, annoyed at the strange situation in which I found myself. This, apparently, was the wrong thing to do. It started out slowly. My throat protested when I tried to use it, and I choked on that groan. The noise that came out as a result of my struggles may have been humorous were it not for the irksome twinge that erupted in my throat. I lay still, not moving, not making a sound, barely breathing. I tried to ignore the rising throb in my neck, willing it to give up and disappear. But of course my luck wasn't that good. It seemed as though the pain should be a reminder: there was something that I should know. If I could only think what it was. I sighed, though it could hardly be counted as a sigh; I was careful not to breathe in enough air to expand my lungs for fear that this would hurt.

I kept my eyes closed and tried to drift back to sleep, the burning throb in my neck steadily begging more and more of my unwilling attention. Finally, when it got to a point where I would certainly have whimpered if I trusted my throat enough to let me, I tried to open my eyes, but my lids were too heavy, like great immoveable bricks were laying atop them, trapping me in a wakeful doze. Anxiety pinched at me.

That did it. One little emotion—other than sleepiness—and my entire body exploded.

Not literally, of course, although it may as well have been. I could feel the flames licking my body, twisting my skin and boiling my blood. But it wasn't a fire that could possibly be escaped; this flame was _inside_ me. It was surging through my system, pouring lava into every corner, shifting everything around noisily and not the least bit gently. My bones snapped with exertion of carrying my weight, even though I may have been lying down; I couldn't tell. I couldn't remember where I was, or who I was, or why I was here, or where here was. I couldn't imagine what I could have done—what _anyone_ could have done—to deserve pain on such a real level. All I could comprehend was the fire, the burning. It made my stomach churn horribly, but nothing stayed close to my thoughts for long. My grasp on reality was long gone, and the insatiable, consuming fire was all that was left. I had nothing.

Despair raged through me, not competing with the fire, but joining it. I began to cry, the hot tears sliding down my face, burning their trail in my skin. I hardly reacted to this new pain. Every ticking second was like a knife to the gut, a bullet to the heart. In fact, I would have preferred being shot. I would rather have gone through the sheer torture of being shot in the heart, all in agonizing slow motion, even as it reached my spine and shattered my nervous system, destroying every nerve in its path, sending a spasm of pain throughout my body every instant; I was sure that such an experience would pale in comparison to this.

I screamed. It was loud and I filled it with all the pain I could muster, though no calculable fraction of the pain that I felt would have fit into one cry.

As soon as the horror filled shriek left my mouth, I knew that it was a mistake. If I'd thought that the groan caused enough pain to shut me up, I knew that now I would never speak again. If, that is, I somehow lived through this ordeal. But that was nonsense. Who could live through this? In fact, I probably wouldn't last the night. As that thought hit me, I almost cried out in relief. At last, some shred, some glimmer of hope that this torment would end.

A strange noise lifted me from my grateful exultations. It sounded oddly familiar, in a distant sort of way. I strained to hear, locking my body against the blinding pain. I was mesmerized by just the fact that I could hear anything at all, and even more that I could feel _familiarity _of before this torture.

I heard the noise again, and this time it was accompanied by a sensation of gentle pressure on my right hand. That felt so right, so perfect, like whatever had caused it _needed_ to be there. I longed for it again, taking a moment to mourn its loss, when I realized that the pressure hadn't left.

_What is that?_

My mind wouldn't work. It was too preoccupied with the pain that still raged through my body. But the fact that I could form even a single coherent word was encouraging. Even now, as I thought about it, the pain seemed to be subsiding. It seemed sudden. I was sure that only a second ago, I was being attacked with napalm. Though, to be fair, it could've been hours. The seconds seemed to flow together, the minutes flowed with the hours, and for all I knew for certain, I could have been lying there, in waking agony, for weeks by now.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, my brain began to unlock itself as the pain wavered off into a dull clawing burn; not pleasant, but still a vast improvement. I started to remember images. They were irrelevant, I was sure, and not very clear, but I would take whatever distraction I could get. Simple pictures flitted across my mind, as if I were seeing a blurry filmstrip while I was half asleep. A folded note, a cooking skillet, a small silver object—a telephone?—and several other things that I could not quite identify.

The images began to get more complex, but they still looked blurred to me. A decrepit truck parked on an otherwise empty street, a black motorcycle leaning against the tires of a larger vehicle, a high cliff that towered over still, black water, and lastly, a mass of red, seemingly made up of thousands of smaller parts, all moving in their own directions, but never changing colors or leaving the group. I didn't understand the significance of any of these things.

Pictures continued to dominate my mind as if willing me to pick up some semblance of self from them; I tried, but my efforts were in vain. The pain was returning now, growing stronger with every passing image. I fought the urge to scream again, knowing that it would only make it worse.

I struggled to keep myself, to fight against the overwhelming black hole I could feel looming closer every second. I had only a matter of seconds before I lost everything that I had now, every picture would disappear and whatever good feeling I had now would perhaps dissolve. Maybe this was something that I wanted. Maybe when I was gone, the pain would be gone. But I had no guarantees that the blackness offered death, or any sort of an end. I didn't know what to expect when I crossed the threshold into that area of dark unknown, and in most ways that seemed so much worse than this pain.

I was slipping. I could feel it coming, but could do nothing to stop it. I almost cried out, almost pleaded for help. But no one would come. I was alone, completely, absolutely, lost and alone.

The pressure on my hand was not lost. I took what comfort I could from it, knowing that in a moment it would be gone.

Suddenly, realization hit me like a fist. What I felt on my hand was another hand, squeezing mine and sending me messages that everything was somehow going to be alright. I was loathe to accept that message, to give in and raise my hopes, to set myself up for devastating disappointment. But I couldn't stop myself. Trapped in a world wrought with agony, tormented my flickers of a life that I could not remember, I was being offered a miniscule glimmer of hope, and I was going to take it. That was enough.

One last image forced itself into my mind, planting itself on my eyelids. It was so much sharper and clearer than the others; it took me a moment of disconcertion before I could turn my attention on what the picture was.

A face gazed at me in the dark; a painfully familiar face. Ghost white and more beautiful than the breaking dawn, he looked at me with concern and something that I couldn't quite place—_adoration?_ _Love? _His eyes stared, unblinking, into mine, a glowing, liquid topaz. I knew this face, I knew those eyes. I had spent countless hours staring at him, tracing his features, memorizing his every detail.

_Edward!_

My world came rushing back at me. Edward was here. I knew his was the hand that grasped mine. I knew that he was with me. I knew that the burning, lethal pain in me would stop soon; I even knew what was happening to me. Most importantly, I knew that Edward loved me.

The blackness didn't scare me anymore. With Edward by my side, it seemed peaceful, serene. It offered me an escape that I had not thought of before: unconsciousness. I didn't have to be awake for this torture. The pain ebbed away just enough, for just a second, just long enough. I took my chance, giving Edward's hand a small, weak squeeze, and threw myself into the dark, knowing that when I resurfaced, I would be with Edward forever.

**Edward:**

This was the worst thing that I could imagine seeing. I remembered the day I'd lived through when I'd believed that Bella was dead. That pain had seized my heart and left it mangled. It was utterly indescribable; I wouldn't have described it if I could.

But even then, I hadn't _seen_ her. I hadn't had to see her broken body, mauled by the suicide fall from the cliff. Of course, she _hadn't_ been dead, so there'd been nothing to see, but the thought still sent shivers of pain through me.

Now I could see her. I could see what she was going through, and I wanted to kill myself all over again. I would have, had Alice not quickly explained what she had meant by her vague declaration. I reached over and took Bella's clammy hand, sobbing. In my mind, the events of last night's chaos and panic played over again, like the worst horror movie imaginable.

_I didn't give Alice the shadow of a chance to explain her bloodcurdling proclamation. I snapped the phone shut and threw it somewhere; I paid no attention to where it landed. I scooped Bella up off the bed, fastening my arms safely around her. I vaulted out the window, and the second we hit the ground, I ran. I'd never run faster in my life. This run was fueled by desperation and hysterical panic and the thought that maybe, just maybe, if I got Bella to Carlisle in time, he could help her._

_Bella was silent in my arms, even as I screeched to a halt in front of my house—having flown across the distance in record time—and nearly hit a tree in my haste._

_I rushed her into the house, yelling at the top of my lungs, not caring that I barely had to whisper to alert the whole household of my presence. Carlisle was at my side before I took a step._

Get her to the sofa, _Carlisle didn't bother to speak aloud. When Bella was nestled safely on the couch in the wide front room, Esme bustled out of the kitchen with Carlisle's bag. He opened it, drawing out a long syringe. _

_"Shouldn't we try to suck the venom out?" I asked, incredulous to Carlisle's calm manner._

It's too late for that now, _Carlisle told me in thought. The words resounded in my mind, just as Alice's had, like the clang of a bell that sounded as someone sauntered up to a waiting guillotine. _The venom's spread too far.

_I just stared, numb to the whole room, only seeing Bella's face, twisted in agony. I couldn't understand why I couldn't save her. How had the venom spread so quickly? _

_Suddenly Alice was kneeling at my side, her hand on my shoulder in an effort to comfort me. I felt a stab of anger at her, though I knew that none of this was my fault. _

_Through Alice's thoughts I saw her vision. I watched in horror as my teeth punctured the skin of Bella's soft, warm neck. The vision flashed, and Bella lay on the couch in my bedroom, screaming. This was all my fault. _

_I let my head fall into my hands. As if sensing what it was that vexed me, Alice immediately averted her thoughts from the vision. Instead she directed her thoughts at me, explaining the unique course the venom was taking through Bella's system._

Apparently, Bella is particularly sensitive to you as well, Edward, _Alice told me. _Her blood is so much more potent to you. It seems that your venom is also more potent to her. Carlisle believes that the change should be quicker for her. At least you can be thankful for that.

_I only nodded, understanding, but not really caring. All I cared about was the pain. Bella's pain, which was even now flooding through her, killing her, in a way. And it was going to get so much worse. I hoped that Carlisle's morphine would help._

_I was in pain, as well, but of a different kind that Bella's. I hated seeing her like this, so broken and empty, so helpless and vulnerable. My chest constricted, and I couldn't breathe. My hands curled into tight fists as I fought the agony. _

_But then, I told myself, this was all my fault. I had let one moment get the better of me, and now Bella had to pay for it. I'd destroyed the person I loved the most in a moment of blind passion. _

_Disgusted with myself, I let the pain have me._

**_So there you have it! Reviews are always appreciated, and I will personally answer all reviews that aren't anonymous. Thanks again for reading!_**


	4. Chapter 4: Coma

_**Hi everyone, SO sorry that it took so long to update, this chapter was really difficult to write for some reason. It's not the most exciting chapter, but I really thought that it kind of added the extra time in there, I sort of thought that it was necessary. Anyway, don't worry, I promise I will update before I leave for New York on Monday. I'll be back by next Friday, I believe. Anyway, here's chapter 4, I hope you like it!**_

_The Harsh Light of Day_

_Chapter 4: Coma_

**Bella:**

The next few hours—or maybe it was days; my mind wouldn't keep track of the time properly—brought with it only the comfort of a seemingly eternal nothing. I had no worries, entertained no doubts, yielded to no pain. I felt only an overwhelming sense of love and satisfaction—Edward was nearby, he was watching over me…and when I was finally expelled from this black haven, I would never have to leave his side. And _forever_ would have a whole new meaning.

I had imagined this moment more times than I could count, as a fantasy…and as a nightmare. But the idea that my mind had created was so childishly romanticized. I'd pictured Edward holding me on my bed as he always did while I slept. I'd imagined a strength in me that overcame or ignored the pain and was able to focus on the beauty of the new world that I was becoming a part of.

But this was nothing close to what I had thought it would be like, such was the nature of fantasies. I had imagined the thought of Edward and only the thought of Edward sustaining me, keeping me only aware enough to think of _him_, to see _him_. That would, I thought, make my love for him seem all the more tangible. But honestly, this really wasn't the case. As beautifully meaningful as it was that the memory of Edward's face had been the only thing strong enough to console me in my hopelessness, now there was nothing to compare. My thoughts didn't dwell only on Edward; really, they didn't dwell on anything. It was like I was in some sort of morphine-induced coma. I didn't feel anything or think anything.

I had read a little about people in comas. Mostly, I suppose that it was probably fictional, but still it makes me wonder. Was there any truth to the idea that while someone's body lay in comatose, their consciousness drifted in a dreamlike state, exploring their own mind and discovering their own true self? Or was that simply the stuff of dreams, fabricated by writers who chose to change the ways of the world in their own minds?

I wonder if maybe it _was_ different for someone in a normal coma—that is, one that was not induced from medication used to take the edge off the pain of changing permanently into an immortal vampire. Maybe the writers' version was the truth in a more normal circumstance. I would never know.

It didn't matter. I wasn't actually thinking about comas and the strange and unique nature of mine. I wasn't thinking of anything. My mind was gone; if to some place to which my body and my memory didn't follow, then I knew nothing of it. I think that more accurately, my mind was like a computer: shutting down and cooling of before the ultimate reboot.

It meant nothing at the time. Nothing meant anything. I couldn't understand or process anything. Not even pain. Pain, which had been my biggest concern, which had at first robbed my very essence of coherency and the ability to remember a reason to live, now had not even the slightest, most insignificant effect on me. I couldn't feel it, much less bring myself to care about it. If I'd been aware of anything, thinking of anything, I probably would have been praising Carlisle's name for that miracle morphine of his.

Suddenly, and I had not the faintest idea how long it had been since the last time I had formed anything resembling a thought, something snapped. Literally; I heard a _snap_ somewhere in the room, or perhaps in my head, and was abruptly confused by my having been able to process hearing anything or indeed being able to _feel_ confusion—or anything else—about it.

After the initial _snap_, and the confusion that immediately followed, several things happened all at once. The main thing, or at least the thing that seemed so obvious right away to me, was that I could feel something—everything! Something soft behind my head, something warm covering my legs and torso, and—I realized, almost smiling—Edward's hand gently squeezing mine. It took me a moment to get over the shock and wonder of these realizations, and of noticing that I still felt no pain. But when I did, I finally noticed the _smells_. Several of them surrounded me just in that one moment.

Most seemed vaguely familiar, but so much stronger than the mere inclinations that they were before now. They filled my being the second they reached my nostrils. Something fresh and floral, strangely invigorating in a toxic new way. Flowers and grass—was I outside? No, the window must have been open; the scent was strong but not overpowering. Something else, bitter and burning, awakened an annoyance in me; it seemed unnecessary and much too close to me for my taste. Another hundred odors flew at me, flooding my senses until one, so much sweeter, so much more potent, hit me full in the face, overtaking me within seconds.

I recognized it—so familiar, so comforting. It was sweet in an unbearably glorious way. It reminded me of all the reasons that I was still alive, that I still had the strength and the faith to go on. It was _his_ scent. If it was blown across a thousand seas I would still know this aroma and it would bring me calm.

Through all of these new discoveries, I still hadn't stirred at all. A part of me was afraid of the world that awaited me when I woke. I lingered close to consciousness, breathing in the sweet scent of Edward, trying idly to convince myself to wake up and leave this comfort zone behind me.

I finally took a deep breath, altering for the first time my pattern that had lasted as long as I could reasonably guess. I detected no change in Edward's position, but I couldn't be positive until I looked directly at him. I took another bracing breath, clenching my jaw against the unsanctioned fear, and slowly opened my eyes.

**Edward:**

I didn't deserve to be in the same room with her. I didn't deserve to live in the same world with her. I dreaded the moment she woke up; if she had one ounce of sense, she would refuse to see me, she would shun me for the rest of eternity. In fact, that would perhaps be better than what I knew she would do; the truth of it was that she _didn't_ have any sense. I knew that she would find some twisted way of seeing things, of making everything _not_ my fault; she would not blame me. Perhaps that was worse. It would probably be easier if she would scream at me, blame me for not only ruining her life, but in effect, ending it. If she would be angry. Then I would have some small chance of forgiving myself, however slowly, as she did. As it was, she would probably forgive me before she even had time to realize the full impact of what had happened. So I would be left to the chore of hating myself; the way that I felt now, _someone_ had to blame me. How could I bring myself to be with her? To look into her eyes and let myself take comfort in her when I had committed such a crime against her? I knew that she would still love me somehow, but that I would never deserve her. No matter what happened between now and the end of forever, I would never find a way to forgive myself for what I had done to her.

But at the same time, I hated every second that passed while she was not awake. It had been only eighteen hours since the venom had first entered her bloodstream. What Alice had told me was indisputably true, but it was also completely unprecedented. This meant that I really had no idea when—or even, I suppose, if—she would wake up. If just for the comfort of knowing that she was alright, no matter what she thought of me, I wished with everything that I was that she would open her eyes.

I was, in short, trapped in an incurable—or so it seemed to me—state of perfect torment and sheer misery.

I held her limp, chilled hand in mine; I hadn't let go of it for one second since I had carried her into my bedroom and laid her on the couch there, and in those tortuous hours, I had noted a marked change in the texture of her skin. I grasped her hand tightly in both of my own, my elbows resting on my knees, my head bent as I pressed my lips to her fingers.

My entire body shook with silent, dry sobs that ripped through my system and almost forced the tears that would not form to fall.

I felt worthless, guilty, weak, conflicted, alone, selfish, absolutely terrified—terrified of myself, of what was going to happen when Bella exited her coma and entered my world, of that minute possibility that the extra potency of _my_ venom would kill her.

The violence of my sobs was, at this point, such that I had to call on every bit of my concentration to keep from vibrating into another dimension. I kept perfectly still, not because it felt any better, but simply because I knew that if I gave in now, I may never reemerge from my despair.

I was vaguely aware of a deviation in the steady pattern of Bella's breathing. But I was so consumed with grief that the meaning of this didn't really register with my mind.

I felt Bella's hand flex. At this, I finally lifted my head and looked at her. My eyes trailed from her hand up her arm to her face. Her own eyes were finally open, staring unblinking at me, trying to catch my eye.

And then my gaze locked with hers, and my entire world was changed.

**_Alright, yes. So, all in all, not my best chapter. Let me know what you think. The next chapter should be better!_**


	5. Chapter 5: Whispers

**_Okay, so here's your next chapter. I am going to New York this week, so I won't have any more updates until Friday at the earliest. Sorry. Anyway, until then, you can occupy your time reading this, reviewing, and reading the stuff written by my club mates at Jesus Freak Inc. Enjoy!_**

**Bella:**

He'd only looked at me for a moment, pain and conflict winning the battle for control over his emotions. His dark gold eyes burned into mine and I felt a very strange sensation in my chest; not at all the ordinary skipping of my heart. I was too preoccupied with the alarming expression on Edward's face to find any meaning in this. The way he was looking at me inspired desperation of the acutest kind. I was petrified that he was going to leave, that this was not enough to hold his interest, that he no longer loved me now that I was not the warm, soft, breakable human with whom he fell in love in the first place. I couldn't decode the static messages that his gaze was shooting at me. I panicked, trying to counter his crazed countenance with something calming and reassuring, but failing quickly and miserably. Edward's emotion, whatever it was, had overtaken him, and he stood fluidly and ran from the room.

That hurt, and I started to get up so that I could go after him. But my journey was halted by the appearance of a small, familiar, pixie-like figure in the doorway of Edward's bedroom. Alice. I wouldn't have stopped for anyone else, but I was sure that if anything was dangerously wrong with Edward, Alice would know about it. I could happily spare a few moments to talk with her.

Alice looked me up and down, her eyebrows raised. But I could trace no surprise in any of her features; she had seen me this way before. Not in physical presence, of course, but in a vision. So I knew that what she was doing now was making a connection, or a decision. After a long moment of scrutiny, Alice pried her eyes off me and turned her head to glance down the hall after Edward. Then she looked back at me and genuinely smiled.

"Oh, Bella," she said, dancing over to me and perching at my side on the edge of Edward's couch. "This is the strangest thing. You really have no idea."

"What's so strange about it?" I asked, confused. "You've seen me as a vampire before now."

"Yes, but it's not just the way you look. Your smell..." she leaned closer to me and inhaled deeply. "It's so different…and yet just the same. I wonder what Edward thinks about it." I looked down at the quilt that covered me.

"I don't think he likes me much this way," I confessed in a whisper. Alice rolled her eyes.

"My brother is rather prone to the melodramatic, if you hadn't noticed," she said in a slightly annoyed tone. "He has to make _everything_ a huge show." Turning serious, she added, "He's also quite the brooding masochist, you know. He blames himself for what happened. He feels awful about it. Don't need to be a mind reader to see that."

"But it wasn't _his_ fault!" I almost shouted, jerking my gaze back up to Alice's face. "He _can't_ think I blame him."

Alice snorted.

"Of course he doesn't. That may be the worst part. It might be easier for him to forgive himself if you didn't."

"That's stupid," I grumbled. I looked back down at the quilt, my fingers tracing the patterns in the fabric. Alice nodded in agreement.

"It is. But he'll probably get over it eventually."

"Did you see that? Did you have a vision?" I looked up at her hopefully.

"No…" she answered slowly, looking troubled. Then she relaxed, smiling at me reassuringly. "But he usually does." I still wasn't convinced. "Don't worry about it, Bella," Alice continued. "It will be alright, I promise."

I just nodded glumly. Alice sighed and stood up, offering a hand to me.

"Come on," she said. "You have _got_ to see what you look like!"

I took her hand and let her pull me up off the bed. Still troubled, I dropped my eyes. My glance landed on Alice's arm and something pale and smooth in her hand.

Only when she stopped me in front of the large mirror in her bathroom did I realize that the thing that she was holding was my own hand. I gasped as I remembered just why exactly I had been asleep for so long.

"Alice…how long?"

She knew what I was asking her. "Somewhere between 18 and 20 hours."

"So fast?" I asked, incredulous. "I thought it usually lasted for days."

"It does, Bella," she assured me, still maintaining her easygoing and untroubled countenance. "But there seems to be a correlation between your blood and Edward's venom." I just stared at her. I had no idea what she could possibly be talking about, which she must have gathered from my expression.

"Bella," she continued. "You understand that your blood is particularly appealing to Edward, yes?" I nodded, and she went on. "Well, it seems that Edward's venom is particularly potent to your system. Even just one second after he bit you, it was already too late. By that time, the venom had already penetrated your blood so fully…there was never any chance at all of saving you. Not that Edward didn't try. He was distraught. I've never seen him like that before," she finished, looking at me contemplatively.

Alice looked me up and down, probably imagining a whole new wardrobe for me, as I mulled over the explanation that she had just given me. It was kind of beautiful that _Edward's _venom was especially strong in polluting my system, just as his everything else was so able to excite my system. I knew that Edward blamed himself for biting me and pushing me, maybe a bit too early, into his world, but really, he had saved me at least two days of torture. I wondered if that had ever happened to anyone else.

"Is it like that for all vampires and their—what did Aro call me?" I tried to remember the term that the translucently white Italian vampire had used to describe me. La…la…la something. Something in Italian. Now what did it mean again?

"La tua cantante? Singer?" Alice prompted. I nodded vigorously, cocking my head in curiosity. "I don't know. This situation is completely unprecedented, Bella." She looked at me, with her golden eyes intent on my face. "You're very lucky. Most vampires wouldn't have only bitten you. They would have devoured you completely—they would have destroyed you."

For a moment after she stopped speaking, we stood without moving, just staring at each other in solemn meditation. But then she smiled again, breaking the tension, and grabbed my shoulder.

"Now, really, Bella," she sang. "You _must_ see yourself. Get ready!"

She turned me toward the long mirror and I didn't resist. But what I saw made me immediately jump backwards and crash into the wall behind me. Alice made a _tsk_ sound at me and pursed her lips at the wall in disapproval, pushing me forward so that she could examine the Bella-shaped indentation in her bathroom wall.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Alice," I apologized without looking back at her. I was too busy examining myself in the mirror. The skin was so familiar; white, hard, cold, smooth…like marble or granite.

"Hmm, I think it'll be alright." Alice was still preoccupied with the dent in her wall. "We can probably just fix it up with some spackle or something. I don't _think_ it'll need a rebuild. Isn't it funny? Yesterday, you would've been bruised by that wall and now…"

She was still talking, but I found myself incapable of listening to her; if being so distracted by my own reflection made me vain, then in that moment I would have put Rosalie to shame. This was, for want of any word that could accurately be used to describe the chaotic raging that was terrorizing every part of me, weird. Insane. Completely unbelievable. It wasn't bad, necessarily. But it was so strange. I couldn't imagine that I would ever get used to seeing this when I looked at my reflection. I still had the full length mirror tilted downward just enough so that I couldn't see my face. I wasn't ready for that yet. I was afraid of what I would see when I finally brought myself to look into my own eyes, knowing that I would see not the familiar chocolate brown of my human irises, but a darker and much more menacing color. Edward's reaction had been enough to justify this fear.

"You know, I think Jasper can help me with this…" Alice trailed off, which was really the only thing that alerted me to the fact that she was even still speaking. I glanced at her in the mirror and saw her rigid and wide-eyed expression, recognizing it right away. She snapped out of it quickly, flashing a smile at me. "Speak of the devil," she said. "This might take a while. I'll be back when I can." And with that she danced out of the room, leaving me to stare at my reflection some more, marveling at the strange and wonderful reality of what I was seeing.

Finally, I plucked up the courage to tilt the mirror back to its natural position. And then I looked upon my own face—my immortal face—for the first time.

Smooth and white like the rest of my skin, my face seemed shaped very much like it had been before. It was still heart shaped and half obscured by long, dark hair. My pours were invisible, and my features seemed aligned more proportionately, but other than that, I couldn't see a major trace of the divine beauty that graced Edward and Rosalie.

But my eyes. My eyes were truly terrifying. They were dark, almost black, with just the slightest ruby tinge lining the irises. They would, I hoped, change to the warm liquid gold color that I had come to know and love, when I established my diet as a 'vegetarian' vampire. But for now, they were awful.

I let my hand glide across the smooth skin of my check, sliding it slowly down my neck and letting it rest just under my collarbone, right above my heart.

I felt nothing.

I shouldn't have been surprised; I knew that my heart would never beat again. But for some reason, I was overly affected by the literal impact of my transformation. Technically, I was dead. I wasn't alive anymore, at any rate. I backed up against the wall, gently this time, and slid down until I was seated on the floor of Alice's bathroom, hugging my knees like a child.

I don't know how long I stayed like that, but it was probably quite a while. Too long.

I was staring into space, thinking about nothing in particular and absentmindedly practicing _not_ breathing, when I heard a familiar voice just outside the door.

"Should I go in? What if she's angry? What if she's _not _angry? I wish I could hear her thoughts."

Who was Edward talking to? And why was he speaking so loudly?

It occurred to me that he may only have been speaking in a whisper, but I, now possessing super vampire hearing, could actually make out what he was saying for once.

"Get a grip on yourself and just go in and talk to her!"

I frowned in confusion. This was getting odd. Who was Edward getting so upset with? Running a marble hand distractedly through my hair, I forced myself to stand up. I looked down and noticed, for the first time, that I was still wearing my cotton pajamas. I wrinkled my nose, wondering absently if what Alice had been thinking of dressing me in would have perhaps been an improvement.

"She's so beautiful. She'll always be beautiful. And that scent—how can it still be so intoxicating, even now?"

I caught a whiff of a strong aroma, interrupting my concentration on Edward's one sided conversation. It was a very familiar and comforting scent, but it seemed that its potency had been multiplied a hundredfold. It filled me, and I turned in response to this magnificent odor, only to find Edward standing in the doorway of Alice's bathroom. He was still talking—only he wasn't: his mouth wasn't moving at all, but I could still hear his voice clear as day.

He was _thinking_. And I could hear him.

**_I know that's kind of a cliff hanger! But let me just tell you this: it's not what you think. I'm positive that it's not what you think. You're welcome to guess anyway, if you like, though. Hope you liked it. PLEASE review._**

**_ Thanks!_**


	6. Chapter 6: Sight

**_Hi, everybody. I'm SO sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I had a vacation, then the internet was down, and the site wasn't working, then I got conveniently really busy all of a sudden. You know how it is. Anyway. SORRY. The last chapter left off on a little cliffy, sorry. You're all going to hate me after this chapter, too. :)_**

**_So Breaking Dawn is finally here. I personally loved it a LOT. If anyone wants to talk about it, message me or email me, I'd love to talk to people. _**

**_So I finished reading Breaking Dawn, and my mind flew to my fanfiction peice. I was a hair's breath away from giving up. I thought her ending was flawless. Anyway. This, I decided, isn't an ending that I like better, just an "alternate Eclipse." I can live with that. Okay, no more ado. Sorry. Go ahead!_**

_The Harsh Light of Day_

_Chapter 6: Sight_

**Bella:**

I stared at him in complete confusion, my mouth hanging open and my brow furrowed, unable to come to a logical conclusion. He stared back, alarmed.

_Oh, no_, his voice said. Yet his lips were still. _What's wrong? She remembers me, doesn't she? She has to remember me. But what if she doesn't? She didn't say anything when she woke up; what if she doesn't remember me?_

He sounded so lost. It was disconcerting; he always seemed so composed when he spoke aloud. I instinctively took a step toward him, which he countered by stepping back.

"Edward, calm down," I said automatically. "Of course I remember you."

Edward did a double take. He blinked, shook his head, and his mouth fell open in wonder and confusion.

"I—I didn't say anything," he stammered. That surprised me. I didn't think I'd ever heard him stammer.

"I heard you," I mumbled, mostly to myself, but Edward still heard it. I stared into his dark eyes. He stared back, obviously astounded, either lost in thought, or incapable of thinking at all. But if he was thinking, and I _had_ been hearing his thoughts, I wasn't now. I didn't hear anything but the loudest silence in the history of the world.

As I gazed into those beautiful eyes, the ones that I had missed so much over the past months—I could hardly remember exactly how many it had been—that it'd hurt enough to kill me if I had let it, the world around me stopped. I was hit abruptly with the stillness of my own heart and his scent that swept over me and settled all around me.

"What?" Edward looked cautious now, along with the confusion, and possibly even afraid. "What are you talking about? _How_?"

"I don't know," I admitted softly, my eyes wide and my breath coming in spastic gasps that I couldn't control, though I knew that I didn't technically need to breathe. "I—I can't anymore. Unless you've stopped thinking, I can't…I can't hear you anymore. I don't—" I broke off, shuddering. I tried to take a steadying breath, but suddenly my entire body was overtaken with shaking. Edward didn't seem to have a clue what to do. He stared at me in alarm, seeming to battle within himself whether he should move closer to me, offer to help me, or keep his distance and wait for the spasms to stop.

Within seconds, his inner conflict was settled for him. My legs gave out beneath me and I collapsed in a convulsing heap on the smooth tile of Alice's bathroom. In a flash that would have disoriented me if I'd been alert enough to care, Edward was at my side, one of his arms going around my waist to hold me steady, the other twisting around my shoulders. He stroked my hair and held me to him, bracing his rock-solid body against mine to counter the convulsions.

We stayed like that for a several long moments. The spasms were hell, but the feel of Edward's arms around me again, pulling me to him was heaven. I hardly knew if I was happy or not.

And then, as suddenly as they had begun, the tremors stopped. My muscles relaxed and I settled myself, relieved, against Edward's chest, preparing myself for the frustrating hours that it would take to figure out why I could hear his thoughts for those few minutes. I was allowed a few seconds of peace before I was overcome with a new sensation.

Hunger.

It came strong and fast, filling my being and shoving out anything and everything else. The small white room disappeared, the bathtub, mirror, and even Edward along with it. An unfamiliar scene swam before my eyes now.

_A girl, thin, blonde, about my age, limped along an empty road, her eyes wet and black mascara lines running down her damp cheek. She limped pathetically and cried out with almost every step; she was obviously very weak. Strangled sobs and sporadic gasps echoed around the rocks and trees that lined the street. _

_The sweetest smell that had ever graced my senses caught me and locked my attention on her stained clothes and skin and the dozen or so slashes in her arms and face. _

_First, I smelled a salty, earthy, organic aroma, like a heavy rain in a jungle by the ocean. Then, as I inhaled greedily and was better able to break down the assaulting odor, I detected a delightful metallic hint, a smell exactly like the sensation of licking a penny. Combined, the effect was entrancing. I heard a low, soft growl, laced with desire and longing, but muted, as if the sky was the source of the sound._

_I focused on the limping, crying girl with an unfamiliar and sinister energy. Somehow I knew three things about her. One: she was currently less than two miles away from my current position. Two: she didn't have any family expecting her home for several hours. And three: the cuts on her arms and face were not deep enough to harm her much. They wouldn't even need stitches. She had plenty of hot, sweet, delicious blood left in her breakable little body._

The scene disappeared, and the blindingly white bathroom was back again.

But not for long.

_Another girl, older than me by five years or so, stood in full hiking attire in the middle of a dark labyrinth of trees. She bounced lightly on her heels, her eyes wide and staring around frantically. The sounds of the woods unnerved her; she jumped at every bird's warble, at every swaying branch. Another smell filled my nostrils, radiating from the girl. It wasn't sweet; it was bitter, like tea, but not soothing. Filled with appetizing energy. Like coffee, maybe. _

_Fear._

_It put me on edge, but a good edge. I was excited. I wanted to hunt her. _

_About this girl, too, I knew three things. One: she was lost in the woods about 10 miles from Edward's house. Two: her partner was looking for her, but he was way off base; he wouldn't find her for hours. And three: She was so afraid that she could hardly remember her own name. There was no way she was getting out of that forest before I could get to her._

Again, the scene disappeared as soon as I came to grips with those three facts.

And again, the bathroom was just as abruptly replaced.

_A biggish man stood bent at the waist, lowering his red, mustached face to match the height of the little boy that was ambling up to him. Behind the man was a black van, motor running, door open, ready to go. The boy smiled shyly at the man, who smiled—more of a grimace, really—back and ushered the boy into the van. He climbed in after the kid. _

_The child's flushed face, chubby neck, and adorable innocence had my mouth watering. How pure must his blood be? And the man wouldn't be much of an obstacle. Not for me. An appetizer, really._

_Three facts flew into my mind out of nowhere again. One: the little boy was an orphan; he'd run away from his foster home when this joker picked him up. Two: the man wasn't exactly a model citizen. He was no one society would miss. And three: they were very much alone and unprotected, thirty or forty miles west of me. Bonus, a little run before dinner._

One more time, the scene vanished and Alice's bathroom came back.

I looked up, focusing my eyes, to find Edward staring at me in alarm and fear again. I was still hungry. I realized after a second that I was growling. I stopped and cleared my throat.

"Bella?" Edward said tentatively.

My eyes flew to his face, burning into his. When our gazes locked, I felt my body relax. My shoulders, no longer secure in Edward's arms, dropped and it felt as if my entire spine decided to stop supporting me. I sprawled on the floor. My face relaxed, and my eyes closed.

Almost as soon as I closed them, I snapped them back open again.

I couldn't stand the visions that were haunting my fantasies.

And then the reality of what I had just felt while I watched those strange, unfamiliar scenes hit me in full.

My mind had somehow managed to perform a search of my vicinity. It selected for me some choice targets. The luscious ones. The young ones…. The weak ones.

I'd just managed to get back on my hands and knees. With a gasp, I clawed for the toilet, grabbing the rim of the seat. Did vampires vomit?

I blinked just long enough to be assaulted with another hunting fantasy involving the little boy, and I really hoped so.

**_What'd I tell you? Do you hate me yet? I PROMISE questions will be answered in chapter seven and it will not be as horribly dark, either. PROMISE PROMISE PROMISE. It might be insanely long, but I still promise._**

**_And before anyone tries to answer the above questions, do vampires vomit, don't bother; I already know the answer. _**


End file.
